


The Hungarian Horntail

by Yatorihell



Series: In The Darkness [39]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, ノラガミ | Noragami
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14066619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatorihell/pseuds/Yatorihell
Summary: The first task begins. Will the Champions emerge victorious?Thank you Gio (the_musical_alchemist) for beta-ing me <3





	The Hungarian Horntail

Although Kazuma was relieved Bishamon wasn’t chosen, he was still worried about Yato.

During lunch the following day, amongst the glares and whispered aimed in their direction, Kazuma joined Yato, Hiyori and Yukine at the Gryffindor table.

Yato looked up from his plate of sausages as Kazuma sat himself opposite, greeting Hiyori on his left and Yukine who sat across from her.

“Morning,” Yato said round a mouthful of food.

Kazuma pretended not to notice the chunks of meat he spat out as he spoke. “Good morning.”

They sat in an awkward silence as Yato continued eating, scoffing his final sausage and reaching for butter-soaked piece of toast.

Kazuma took his chance to speak before Yato could spit anymore food at him. “Do you have any idea of what you’re going into?”

They all looked at him.

“I didn’t exactly ask to be the _fourth_ champion,” Yato said slowly, “even if I did put my name in it.”

“Which you shouldn’t have,” Hiyori said shortly. She had been prickly ever since he had been chosen, and Yato wasn’t sure if it was because she was angry or worried.

Yato sighed and dropped his toast onto his plate, about to speak when a voice hissed in his ear.

“Cheat.”

Yato looked around, seeing Bishamon’s golden hair fanning out behind her as she sauntered to the far end of the Gryffindor table and sat down, doing her best to show that she was purposefully ignoring him.

“She wasn’t very happy when she wasn’t chosen,” Kazuma shifted as he said this. He left out the part about how Bishamon said she hoped Yato would be eaten by a Minotaur in one of the tasks.

“I don’t think anyone was,” Yukine said. He propped his chin in his hand, giving Yato a side-long look, “Suzuha is meant to be Hogwarts’ champion.”

Yato rolled his eyes. “You really don’t believe I had nothing to do with this scam, do you?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Kazuma let a grin creep onto his face, “You’d do anything to get out of exams.”

This much was true. Being a champion, Yato was excused from taking his end of year exams. These, however, were his O.W.L exams – very important in deciding which job he could get once he left school. It looked like they would have to be pushed back to the beginning of his sixth year.

Yato smiled. “Oh Kazuma, you know me so well. I mastered the art of the Confundus charm so I could go to my death instead of my exams.”

Hiyori tried to hide her smile at his sarcastic comment whilst Kazuma scoffed and excused himself from the table.

Yukine rolled his eyes and reached for more toast. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”

 

~

 

Yato huddled over the low table in Owlery that night. In the rare privacy he had, he would write to Sakura and keep her updated with his life. Coo Phone was too conspicuous to use to send these letters, so Yato opted for borrowing school owls from the Owlery.

He took a brown barn owl from the rafters, attaching the rolled-up paper to its leg and crossing to the window. Yato watched as the owl soared away, hoping that Sakura would have some sort of advice for him with the tournament.

“Writing to that half-blood?”

The familiarity of this encounter didn’t surprise Yato, even less so when he found Nora standing behind him, arms folded across her chest. “Is it any of your business?”

Nora shrugged.

Yato leant against the window sill, arms folded across his chest. “I guess you have something to do with me being chosen for the Triwizard Tournament?”

Nora was shady, but the shadows that followed her and pulled her strings were even more sinister. The people who puppeteered her and used her eyes, they were the ones who had an ulterior motive.

Nora laughed, light and tinkling like a bell. “Everyone knows that it takes strong magic to trick such a powerful object.”

 _Knew it,_ Yato thought. But who would want him to be in the tournament – and why?

Nora walked until she was right in front of Yato, head tilted back to look up at his expressionless face. The smile that tugged on her lips hinted that she knew something that he didn’t, and her advice pricked at Yato’s confidence.

“If I were you, I’d learn to fly a bit better.”

Nora left without another word, footsteps tapping on stone.

“Fly better…” Yato muttered to himself. Was this a jab at his Seeking skills, or had she noticed that he was jealous of Manabu?

Either way, Yato had no time to dwell on it. The following weeks were full of photoshoots and interviews for _the Daily Prophet_ as the first challenge crept closer.

He was pulled out of class on more than one occasion, which was starting to irritate him as he was hounded by roving reports and wizened men carrying ancient cameras that smoked up the room with each photograph.

It was just a matter of time before the four champions would be facing the first task.

They had no idea what they were facing.

 

~

 

On the 24th of November, Yato was escorted from the breakfast table to a large tent that had been erected next to a stadium built on the school grounds. The Forbidden Forest behind it had been screened from view, but it didn’t stop the sound of roaring beasts nor the cheering crowd.

The champions anxiety grew. Nana stood with her arms folded across her red and black tunic, face in a brusque sneer as she glared at the tent door. Manabu perched on a wooden stool, head bowed and looking as pale as the pastel blue and white on his jacket. Suzuha’s smile had frozen on his face for so long that it had started to go lopsided and his voice deserted him whenever he tried to make some sort of small talk with his silent competitors.

Yato paced so much that the green grass below had turned muddy, hands wringing and sweat sliding down the nape of neck under his green and black shirt.

A ruffling sound on his right caught his attention. A moment later Hiyori and Yukine slipped in between an overlap in the tents canvas, choosing not to go through the door as they would have been stopped by the invigilators who kept the champions under a strict guard.

“What are you doing?” Yato hissed. He looked around at Manabu and Nana who looked at each other before back at the trio. Yato put a finger to his lips, hoping they wouldn’t tell.

“We wanted to say good luck,” Yukine said.

Yato smiled. “Thanks.”

He ruffled Yukine’s hair, getting a small protest in response before he slipped away to wish Suzuha good luck. Yato looked back at Hiyori and ran a hand through his hair.

Hiyori smiled. “Good luck.”

“T-thanks… again,” Yato lost his words. He raked his hair again, eyes looking for something to look at when Hiyori’s expression turned attentive, head cocked to the side.

“Is your hair in the way?”

“Um,” Yato said. He pushed his fringe away from his eyes. “I don’t –.”

“Here.”

Hiyori pushed Yato’s shoulder so he turned around. Hiyori tiptoed, and Yato felt her fingers sweep his hair up in to a stubby ponytail, fastening it with a hairband much more gently than she did in the summer. Yato felt his cheeks go pink, but there was no hiding it now that he didn’t have his hair to hide behind.

He turned around with a smile. “Thanks.”

Without warning, Hiyori threw her arms around Yato, pulling him into a tight hug that made his heartrate soar. Yato flushed, hesitating before he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“Be careful.” She mumbled into his shirt.

Yato felt a smile creep onto his face. She really was worried about him.

“I’ll be alright,” he said, and for once, he believed himself.

They stayed together for a moment longer before the tournament officiator and an array of professors entered the tent. Hiyori let go of Yato, giving him a worried smile and squeezing his hand before she slipped unnoticed out of the tent with Yukine.

Yato’s attention turned to the officiator who held a purple velvet pouch, tuning into what he was saying as the champions gathered around.

“In here are miniature versions of what you will face, and a number. Your task is to collect the Golden Egg.”

He gave the pouch a shake and held it out. A plume of smoke came out from the opening.

Nana choose first, pulling out something in her fist which she unfurled. The crimson figure breathed a short flame, a small tag with the number three hanging around its neck.

A dragon.

“The Chinese Fireball.”

The officiator shook the bag again and Manabu produced a green dragon that circled his palm with a number two attached on its tail.

“The Welsh Green.”

Suzuha choose one of the last two. A small yellow dragon sat in his hand marked with a number one.

“The Swedish Short-Snout.”

Yato picked up the final dragon by its tail, feeling it bite the leather of his glove. He dropped it in his free hand. A skinny, black dragon glared up at him with yellow eyes, the number four tagged on its neck.

“The Hungarian Horntail.”

The professors left after a few moments of talk, not that any of the champions heard as they came to terms with what they were facing: dragons.

Manabu resumed his seat on the stool, whereas Suzuha had crossed to the far side looking fairly ill. Nana’s fallen face had returned to its stoic expression. Yato stared at sliver of wintery sunlight shining through the gap in the canvas flap, wondering how far he could get before someone caught him.

Seconds later they heard the booming voice of the commentator, which was joined by a roar of approval as he announced the start of the first task. With this, Suzuha was called to be the first champion to face his dragon.

He looked pale as he crossed the tent.

Yato’s voice came out strangled and dry as he said ‘Good luck’. Suzuha vanished into the stadium. Seconds later the roar of the crowd filled the tent, signalling that Suzuha had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model.

If they thought fighting a dragon was bad, then listening to someone else fight one was even worse. The remaining champions listened tensely. The crowd screamed, yelled and gasped at every move Suzuha made to escape the Swedish Short-Snout and retrieve the Golden Egg.

The commentators voice didn’t help as he shouted over the noise.

 _‘Oooh, a narrow miss there!’_ and _‘He’s being too careful, it’ll get him killed!’_

Yato resumed his pacing. He could tell Nana’s resolve was wavering as the tension grew thick enough to suck all the oxygen out of the room, clear as Manabu now had his head in between his legs and took long, shaky breaths.

And then, after about fifteen minutes, a deafening roar of applause went up from the stadium. Suzuha must’ve captured his egg. The judges gave their marks – not that the other champions could hear as they were displayed on boards to the crowd – and a whistle blew over the commenters call for the next champion.

"Now Beauxbatons’ champion, Manabu!"

Manabu kept his fists balled as he wobbled out of the tent. After a few minutes the screaming resumed, and Yato and Nana listened to the commentary as Manabu faced his dragon:

_‘Oh, nearly! Careful… good lord, I thought he was in its mouth!’_

Yato felt his stomach twist tighter every passing minute until, ten minutes later, the crowd erupted into applause once more. There was a pause as his marks were shown, another whistle, and Nana was called forth.

Nana sauntered out of the tent, wand clutched in her hand and a half tooth-bared snarl on her face as she entered the arena, mimicking the same ferocity of the dragon she was about to face.

A minute later the Chinese Fireball let out a horrible, roaring shriek while the crowd drew a collective breath which then came out as a thunderous roar of approval as Nana made her way to her egg.

 _‘Very daring!’_ the commentator roared. _‘She nearly lost her arm there!’_

Yato became hyper-aware of his heart thumping out of his chest, the sweat dripping down his neck, and how clammy his hands had become.

_‘That's some nerve she's showing - and – yes! She's got the egg!’_

Applause shattered the air like breaking glass, nearly drowned out by the thundering of hundreds of feet stamping on the stalls in exhilaration.

Yato waited. The scores were announced. A pause. Then the whistle blew.

It was Yato’s turn.

His legs felt as stable as jelly as he walked out through the entrance of the tent, heart in his mouth and stomach now a bottomless pit as Yato made his way through the walkway and through a gap in the enclosure fence.

The dazzling sunlight that met him once he stepped out of the shadows blinded him for a second, forcing him to shade his eyes as the stadium came into focus. Hundreds of faces stared down at him, blurring onto hue of fluttering banners – mostly gold and green for Hogwarts, dotted with scarlet for Durmstrang, and blue for Beauxbatons.

Yato’s eyes dropped as did his hand. On the far side of the enclosure, the real-life Hungarian Horntail glared at him with poisonous eyes, ones that he imagined were the same hue as the Basilisks’. Its black scales rippled and gleamed in the sunlight as it crouched low over its nest of grey eggs, spiked tail lashing behind and marking the ground with deep gouges.

The Golden Egg Yato was tasked to retrieved was well out of sight below its half-furled wings, sword-like claws shifting in the ground as it glowered at Yato before giving an ear-piercing shriek. 

Yato slowly drew his wand from his pocket, trying to decide what to do. _Attack?_ He knew some fire spells – and water ones if he needed defence – but would he be strong enough?

He wished he had a plan of action – not that it would’ve mattered since they didn’t find out about the dragons until today. Being eaten, roasted, or mauled, by a dragon was not something he would’ve expected.

He just needed to get in and out, as fast as he could. Faster than the dragon could outpace him… 

Yato raised his wand.

“ _Accio Firebolt!_ ”

Minutes passed and the crowd didn’t cease its thunderous cheering. Yato didn’t care, scanning the arena for his broom with a sense of urgency as he felt the hair on the back on his neck prickle under the dragon’s glare.

His eye caught a shape zooming into the arena, soaring down until it hovered at Yato’s waist. Yato threw his leg over the broom, gloved hands gripped the wood as he kicked off as hard as he could.

He couldn’t outrun the dragon, but he could outfly it. He wasn’t a Seeker for nothing.

Yato flew as high as he dared, trying to lure the dragon away from its nest. It rose in interest at Yato’s antics, baring its teeth with a hiss that had the crowd gasping as it craned its neck and snapped at Yato.

Yato veered off to the side, bobbing up and down and side to side to entice the dragon into a game of cat and mouse.

The Horntails claws dragged on the ground as it shifted and raised its body up. Yato caught a glimpse of the Golden Egg nestled alongside the dragons own, shining against the ebony scales of its underbelly. 

It was too late by the time realised that the dragon had reared, wings unfurled and beating furiously and tail smashing into the ground as its forearms lashed out at Yato. Its claws landed inches away from Yato as he threw his body low to the broom, the force of the blow nearly knocking him off altogether as he spiralled out of control.

His pulse raced in his ears, hands wound around the neck of the broom and blindly pulling upwards from his downward spiral. Yato jolted back as the broom soared out of control, smashing him hard into the wooden stands.

A blinding pain shot through his shoulder blade. A cry escaped him, arm rendered useless as it dropped to his side, his uninjured arm now the only thing that was keeping him hanging on to the broom.

Yato grunted as he levelled out, ears ringing from the deafening roar of the crowd below him. Everything sounded as if he was underwater, the commenters voice faded as he shouted about Yato’s failed attempt.

The dragon had resumed its nesting, satisfied that it had defeated Yato. 

Leg dangling and breathing heavily, Yato idled above the stands.

Yato hissed as he flexed his arm. It wasn’t broken, but he wouldn’t be able to use it properly. He’d have to grip the broom with his legs whilst he grabbed the egg with his uninjured arm, and, hopefully, get away in time.  

Sweat ran down his face and back, and his leather gloves were becoming uncomfortable. Yato dragged his hand over his face and ran it through his hair which had started to fall from its ponytail with his exertion.

This was his last chance.

A loud gasp drew from the crowd as Yato nose-dived towards the Horntail, getting as close as he dared before soaring back up at the last moment right in front of its face. The dragon’s eye was wide open as Yato passed, muttering prayers that it would follow.

It did. The dragon reared onto its back legs, snout following the small blot of green as Yato flew higher and higher until the dragon’s mouth was right beneath him, fire forming in its throat ready to roast Yato alive.

The flames spewed from the dragon’s mouth, and Yato swung the broom to the right and dived out of the dragon’s path. Dragonfire singed his hair – which had fallen entirely from its ponytail –, and the electric atmosphere of the stadium was now at fever pitch as they spotted that Yato had lunged at the last second.

Yato gritted his teeth, legs clamping around the broom and his hand reach out to capture the Golden Egg which lay unguarded. Everything came back into focus: the sound of the wind rushing through his hair, the charged atmosphere, the screaming onlookers, and the dragons screech as it realised his trick.

By the time the Horntail had crouched down low over its precious treasure and let out a torrent of fire in a wide circle around itself, Yato was high in the air, the egg tucked safely under his arm.

The crowd’s cheers turned into a beating chant. Yato’s name rippled around the stadium, drowning out the commentator’s words. Yato held the egg up in his palm for the crowd to see, a grin plastered on his face as he let himself glide down to the waiting referee.

He was escorted quickly to another tent, his Firebolt and egg whisked away from him as he was ushered into a curtained area of the tent which had been set up as a temporary infirmary.

The matron rushed around Yato’s muttering curses about how 'children shouldn’t be facing dragons. Yato tried not to wince too much as she mended him before wrapping a worrying amount of bandages around the healed injury.

She brushed the curtain aside, moving next door to another patient who Yato could make out as Suzuha from his voice.

Yato hardly had time to lean back on the pillows when more people burst into the tent, wide-eyed and dodging past the matron who shouted at them for coming in without permission.

Hiyori and Yukine apologised profusely but didn’t stop from running to the foot of Yato’s and Suzuha’s beds.

Yato and Hiyori watched as Yukine vanished behind the white curtain, followed by a loud _‘oof’_ and more apologising as they watched Yukine’s shadow hug the injured Suzuha.

Yato turned his attention to Hiyori who stared at him with a mix of awe, relief and worry. His flight had teased his ponytail loose, giving him a windswept, dishevelled appearance that was uncommon yet suited his reckless actions.

He gave her a triumphant lopsided grin.

Hiyori rushed forward and threw her arms around Yato’s neck, nearly sending them both backwards onto the bed as he caught her waist to stop her from crushing him.

Yato made a surprised noise which went unnoticed as Hiyori started babbling about the dragon and the Firebolt and how Yato had managed to trick the dragon.

She finished it all off after taking a deep breath. “You were amazing!”

Yato glowed. “Really?”

Hiyori straightened herself so she was leaning on Yato for support, hands on his shoulders and face unbelievably close to his with shining eyes. Yato was captivated, and for the first time, he didn’t mind her seeing him blush.

“Really!”

**Author's Note:**

> One down, two to go!  
> Someone help Yato... please...  
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated ~


End file.
